Right after he passed out, I went through his room, finding any cash and valuables I could easily carry. As I fled the house, the dark trees seemed to reach for me, drawing me into the shadows of the forest. I broke a clear—but false—trail to the south, then swam through the river before changing direction and heading north. I stopped in Gryphon Eyrie because it’s the last town before the border.
If I want to keep going northeast, that is.
I can’t go south or southwest—that would take me back towards Grace’s Fall. Further up Lycan Pass is Cyan Lock, and beyond that, Quartz Key.
I have friends in both places, but a cold rush of anxiety floods through me at the thought of setting foot in either of those towns.
I can’t go there, either.
The fear I feel at the idea of returning to Cyan Lock is almost worse than getting caught by my father.
Trapped on every side. Slavery, degradation… or death. Great choices.
I hang my head, feeling hopelessness taking me over. It’s like sinking into a frozen lake, slowly going down into the darkness, the light vanishing over your head as the ice steals your soul.
I’m ready. I’m doing this.
I take a few deep breaths, savoring the warmth of the bar before I take myself out into the cold. I’ll race the wind, challenge the snow, and become one with the mountain itself.
And if I can’t survive as a wolf out there… I’ll die, and it will still be better than going back or getting caught.
Father was never shy about using his fists if he felt his words weren’t enough. More than once, I wore bruises as evidence of his fury. Vince is worse—far worse—and I know from the way he looks at my body, the torture he visits upon me will be more creative than a simple beating.
Wow. You know your life is fucked when “creative” and “torture” show up in the same sentence.
I’m just about to stand up and head towards the bar when a bright giggle behind me cuts through my thoughts. I’m sure the sound is familiar, and the last thing I want to do is alert someone connected to the pack where I am.
Everyone is afraid of Father. Giving me to him would ensure his good favor, and deflect his violence and cruelty from them.
I sit frozen, my head down, as the giggles go on.
“You get the next round, you sly bitch! I just paid for two in a row.”
“Uh-uh. I got the last one.”
“You did not!”
“Totally did. You’re just too drunk.”
“Krista!” the bright, bubbly voice giggles some more. “I hate when you do this!”
“No, you don’t,” Krista laughs. “You fucking love me, Winnie.”
“You’re right, I do,” Winnie answers, and I hear more laughter as they hug.
Winnie!
What the hell is she doing all the way down here?
Shock has sucked all the breath out of my lungs. I waver in my seat, willing myself to breathe, to calm down, and not faint.
If I hit the fucking floor, they’ll notice me. And Winnie’s such a busybody, she’ll be all up in my shit!
My heart twists, a deep ache spreading through my chest. Winnie is a sweetheart—a loving, funny girl who enjoys having a good time and making her brother’s life a living hell. If she saw me and tried to interfere, she’d believe she was doing it to help me.
And all she’d be doing is putting herself on the firing line.
I duck my head a little, turning to face the wall. I look different than how I did years ago when I left Cyan Lock, and I have to hope that’s enough to hide me. Wolves can identify each other by smell, of course, but to hunt me down in a room full of shifters, magicians, witches, and half-breeds, Winnie would need to purposefully search for my scent. And even then, the thick fumes of alcohol would make it pretty difficult.
